


The Truth About Christine Chapel

by eugenides (newamsterdam)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fix-It, M/M, Miscommunication, POV Multiple, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:19:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newamsterdam/pseuds/eugenides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was immediate, the realization that Doctor McCoy was in love with the captain. Everything else took a bit longer to fall into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cognitive Dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fic I've been wanting to write since Into Darkness came out, because it deals with three things I wanted more of in the movie: Carol Marcus, Christine Chapel as more than a throwaway line, and of course, Jim and Bones in relation to one another. The three chapters essentially tell the same story from three different points of view, but hopefully they're each unique and bring something new to the story. And while I try to write the ensemble into every ST fic I write, this one doesn't feature the other crewmembers very heavily. There's always next time, I suppose. I've been wrestling with how to write this for months, now, and it's finally come together, so I'd really appreciate any feedback on how it turned out! And though I didn't take the title from a song, this time, the Counting Crows' "Round Here" is the theme of this fic.

The captain thanked her for saving Doctor McCoy’s life.

They beamed back aboard the _Enterprise_ still in their flight suits, hair matted to their foreheads with sweat as the transporter room came into focus around them.

Doctor McCoy stepped off the pad first, shook his head like he was trying to dislodge a dream.

“Bones!” The captain yelled for him when he raced into the room. Then he stopped, and his face went carefully blank. He clapped the doctor on the shoulder with one hand. “Get down to sickbay. Prepare a report on whatever you’ve found.”

Doctor McCoy just nodded. He met Carol’s gaze, once, and then he was gone.

The captain approached her, then. She still couldn’t read his expression. His eyes were too wide and his cheeks were flushed. If she’d been a different kind of doctor, she would’ve asked him if he had a fever.

He met her gaze head-on and said, calmly, “Thank you. For not giving up.”

She didn’t know what she was supposed to say, to that. It was her job to diffuse bombs and disarm torpedoes, though she’d never spent much time in the field before now. So she nodded to the captain, once, and followed Doctor McCoy to sickbay.

But while she navigated the _Enterprise_ ’s winding halls, she was struck with the image of herself at the Starfleet Science HQ. She could remember Christine standing beside her, hand reaching out to brush her shoulder.

“Thank you,” Carol had said. “For everything.”

Christine had smiled, gentle and calm. It was only later that Carol realized she’d been saying goodbye.

\--

Starfleet Medical was overwhelmingly white. The doctors and nurses wore immaculate uniforms, the lights were brilliant and blinding. Doctor McCoy moved through the building with the ferocity of a falcon, barking out orders. He talked with increasingly erratic movements of his hands that cast shadows against the walls like flapping wings.

Carol stood by, analyzing blood samples and corralling nurses. No one but Doctor McCoy got close to the body. After five days of work without sleep, Carol came up next to him and glanced over his shoulder at the simulation he was running on the console.

“This will work,” she said. “If any of them are going to. This is the one.”

Doctor McCoy nodded vaguely, wandered off in a daze. It was as though the frantic energy of the past few days had left him abruptly, leaving him to float along—a white cloud in his stark uniform.

They gathered the command crew and Doctor McCoy looked each of them squarely in the eye as he clutched the specially-made hypospray in his head. They all knew what he was about to attempt, and none of them would fault him if he failed.

“Please,” he whispered as he injected the serum into the lifeless, half-frozen form of Captain Kirk. “ _Please_.”

His eyes shut abruptly and he held them closed, his lips pursed like he was holding in a breath. Carol looked at him, and suddenly she understood.

It was immediate, the realization that Doctor McCoy was in love with the captain. Everything else took a bit longer to fall into place.

\--

She wakes up abruptly one night, throat raw from screaming and back drenched with sweat. She doesn’t want to think about what woke her—visions of crushed skulls and condemning final words chase after her, drifting in and out of lucid thought—so she finds her robe and drapes it over her shoulders, escapes into the hallways that are always brightly lit aboard a starship.

This particular ship has been her home for three weeks, now. Their mission will last for 257 more.

She keeps moving until she’s far down the officers’ hallway. On one side of the hall is Commander Spock’s room. She knocks on the door opposite to his.

It slides open with a hiss several moments later. Doctor McCoy stands there in flannel pants and a t-shirt that reads Ole Miss Rebels. His brown hair is mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. There are dark bags under his eyes.

“We calling this meeting of insomniacs’ anonymous to order?” he asks in a rough voice.

“You did say that if I needed anything, I could come to you,” she reminds him. She thinks back to the day of her father’s funeral, when Doctor McCoy had draped one of his arms around both of her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug.

“I did, didn’t I,” he says musingly. He turns on his heel and heads back into his quarters, looking over his shoulder to make sure she follows.

They end up sitting together; he takes an armchair while she curls up on the couch. He synthesizes two mugs of spicy hot chocolate. Carol sips hers at odd intervals, waiting for the drink to cool.

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Carol?” he asks her after a few quiet minutes. When she starts to shrug, he holds up a hand. “Y’know I can tell, right? And that it’s my job to make sure everyone on this boat is going to last the next five years?”

257 weeks, she thinks. Out loud, she says, “I’m fine. It’s just one night.”

“And the night before that, and the one before that.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, sweetheart.”

She purses her lips. In the labs he always calls her Doctor Marcus, in his quarters it’s usually Carol. The last time he called her sweetheart he was dressed up in blustered flirtation—for whose benefit, Carol’s not really sure. 

He clears his throat after a moment. “Don’t keep blaming yourself,” he says. “Not for his sake. He ain’t worth it.”

Carol stares down at her mug of chocolate and stifles an ironic laugh. No one had ever really blamed her for her father’s actions. Everyone had made it clear that they didn’t associate the two Marcuses. Instead, she’s left with a hollow feeling, as though by disassociating herself she’s betraying something important. 

“It’s not that,” she says at length. As soon as the words are out, she realizes it’s true. She doesn’t blame herself for her father’s death, and certainly not for his actions. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t blame herself for _something_.

Eventually Doctor McCoy—no, Leonard—gets up from his chair and comes to sit beside her. He lays one strong arm across her shoulders and pulls her close to his chest. She sighs, releasing her breath in one mighty exhale. 

“She talked about you all the time, y’know,” Leonard says softly. “That’s why I couldn’t quite believe it when you introduced yourself to Jim. I’d seen the holo on Christine’s desk.”

Something warm sparks in Carol’s chest, spreads through her veins like benevolent fire.

“You didn’t call my bluff,” she says, her tone half-questioning.

“She trusted you.” He shrugs. “I figured I should, too.”

\--

The weeks pass quicker that she could have expected. She spends half her time on-duty on the bridge, and another half down in the labs. Free hours find her eating in the mess with Uhura, or grabbing a drink with Scotty. Though no one is cold, they are by far the most welcoming. And in quieter moments, she ends up in Leonard’s room, sipping brandy when hot chocolate just won’t cut it.

The first away mission she’s assigned to is a simple survey of a planet called Teratai III. Commander Spock takes the conn, and Captain Kirk, Leonard and Carol beam down at 0800 hours.

The grasses are pale green, almost sea foam, and it gives the entire continent a nautical atmosphere. Flowers reminiscent of dandelions bloom all over, and it feels like wading through clouds as they march along, taking readings. 

Jim walks ahead of the two blueshirts, turned around to face them with his arms pulled up behind his head. He keeps up a steady stream of chatter the entire time, and while Carol laughs occasionally at his quips, Leonard’s mouth stays pressed into a firm, focused line.

“So then we’re heading back to the dorm—Bones is with Nancy, they might’ve been dating at the time—and I’m with Gaila, and all of a sudden it is starts _raining_ , seriously pouring, and we make a break for it—”

Everything happens very quickly, after that. The captain stumbles on something, not looking where he’s going. He tumbles backwards, hitting his head hard on the ground and sending up a burst of soft white petals from the flowers around him. The air fills immediately with a smell reminiscent of saffron. 

“Jim,” Leonard calls out in a strangled tone. He and Carol race over, kneel down beside Jim even as he starts clutching at his throat, his face turning bright red as he struggles to breathe. 

“God fucking _damn_ it,” Leonard hisses. He’s reaching for a hypospray from his medkit even as Carol pulls out her comm. 

“Scotty? Beam us up, immediately.”

It takes them six minutes to get the captain back to sickbay. Leonard tells Carol to stay put, then sets about dealing with Jim’s newly-contracted allergy. His movements are quick and efficient, and three minutes after he injects Jim with a hypospray the swelling in the captain’s throat has decreased significantly. Leonard jabs him with a sedative, then sits back and sighs heavily.

Carol comes up beside him and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Leonard,” she says quietly, “Breathe.”

He shakes his head, huffs out a laugh. “Y’know, to anyone else those spores would’ve been beneficial. The two of us are probably going to be feeling fantastic for days.”

She smiles, reaches out to brush the hair from his eyes. “Get some rest, Leonard. He’ll still be here in the morning.”

She steps away, but not before she sees the doctor reach out for the captain’s hand and hold onto it with both of his own.

“Damn it, Jim,” Leonard whispers harshly. 

\--

She remembers the first time she met Christine. There’d been a slight error with one of her experiments, and she ended up at the academy clinic with acid burns all along her inner arms. She sat restlessly on the biobed, waiting to be seen, her arms stinging painfully. But she couldn’t think about that, was too wrapped up in what might have gone wrong. She was reciting chemical equations in her mind when someone shook her shoulder.

“Yes?” she’d said, distracted.

“You’re going to need to pay attention, Cadet Marcus.” The woman before her was several inches taller than Carol. Instead of blue-green, her eyes were pale and soft—so gentle a shade of blue that when the light hit them they looked lavender. Her blonde hair curled around her chin where locks of it had escaped the no-nonsense knot at the back of her head. 

Carol nodded, and let Nurse Chapel work a salve over her arms before she ran the dermal regen unit over her burns. The entire process took only a few minutes, but the nurse worked with immense concentration. She laid out every step of what she was doing as she did it, her voice soft but assured.

“Thank you,” Carol said, when it was through.

Nurse Chapel nodded, curtly, and made a note on the PADD she’d brought with her to the exam room. “Don’t let it happen again,” she’d said sternly.

There was a fire in her blue eyes when she said it. She meant it, too, would never deny anyone care but would prefer that they didn’t need it altogether.

Carol was just always too distracted to figure out what it all meant.

\--

Two months pass, without incident. The crew works like an organ system, alive and constantly changing but perfectly in-tune with itself and its parts. If Doctor McCoy spends less time on the bridge than normal, and Carol spends more nights in his rooms, it not as if anyone notices.

Well, almost.

“What’s going on with you and Leonard?” Nyota asks one day, over lunch. Carol chokes on her pasta.

“What? Nothing.” It’s the truth, too. She’s not even sure where anyone would get the idea.

“You know I’m sleeping across the halls most nights, right?” Nyota arches an eyebrow. She doesn’t blush, doesn’t say anything unless it’s with straightforward honesty or light teasing. It’s one of the things Carol appreciates most, about her. 

“We talk,” Carol says. “We’ve been watching old episodes of _Doctor Who_. Two nights ago we synthesized s’mores.”

Nyota pauses for a moment, then laughs. “So you’re having slumber parties.”

“Something like that, yes.”

Nyota’s quiet again, picking at her food. She glances around the mess hall surreptitiously, and Carol follows her gaze—Sulu and Chekov eating with Scotty and Gaila on one end of the room, a group of lieutenants from security having a loud conversation on the other. Spock and Jim are going over something on the PADDS between them while Jim sips coffee and Spock keeps his hands folded in his lap. And then, tucked away in the corner, Leonard and Geoff M’Benga, talking with almost perfect casualness. 

“There was a time when they took every single meal together,” Nyota says. “Even at the academy, they were inseparable.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who she’s talking about. And confidante of Leonard’s that she’s become, Carol knows exactly what the problem is. She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“It’s not as if they’re fighting,” she says finally. “It’s probably nothing.”

It’s one of the few times that Carol is actually wrong.

\--

The situation on Tahmures starts off badly and quickly takes a turn for the horrible. It’s a planet devoid of most natural resources but home to a fierce warrior race. Their genius for complex weaponry is the reason that Carol is assigned to the mission in the first place.

Six hours in and she finds herself hiding in a cave with Doctor McCoy and Captain Kirk, experiencing something akin to déjà vu. The three members of their security team are long dead, and Doctor McCoy strained his arm trying to drag the last of them to safety. Carol has spent the past hour clenching her teeth so tightly she feels her jaw will shatter.

Jim speaks first. “Lieutenant Marcus, do you still have your phaser?”

She nods, pulls it off the holster at her side. “I can guard the entrance,” she says firmly.

The captain shakes his head. “No. Give it to me, I’ll take guard. You and Bones try and get through to Scotty—tell him to get us the hell out of here.”

“I’m a better shot,” Carol says, lifting her chin defiantly. She also knows more about Tahmurian weapons than the two of them, could strategize better. 

“I don’t care,” Jim says firmly. “Bones, how’s the arm?”

Leonard, who’d been biting down hard on his lower lip, shakes his head. “Listen to Carol, Jim.”

“Now really isn’t the time to be questioning my orders.” Jim’s voice is harsh, and Carol can tell there’s something more to his words, something he isn’t saying.

“Right,” Leonard drawls. “Because only good has ever come of letting you barrel headfirst into another stupid plan.”

The entire world seems to stop in that moment. Leonard closes his eyes, bites his lip. Jim opens his mouth as though to speak, but then just shakes his head. Carol’s still clutching her phaser, looking between the two of them.

“Stupid though my plans may be,” Jim grinds out between his teeth, “I’m still your captain. Both of yours.”

He holds out his hand for the phaser, and Carol hands it over. Jim heads to the mouth of the cave and Carol picks up one of their half-smashed communicators, hoping to get it functioning. Leonard cradles his arm against his chest and mutters under his breath.

Five minutes later Carol thinks she might have something they can work with. Three seconds after that, they hear Jim fire the phaser. Leonard’s on his feet in a moment, running back toward the cave entrance, Carol on his heels.

“Jim!” he screams, and just as two adult Tahmurians enter the cave, Leonard pushes Jim down with his uninjured hand and places his body in front of the captain’s.

“Bones, no!” Jim says, hissing as he hits the hard ground. The Tahmurians are aiming weapons—half spear, half rifle—in their direction. Carol slams into one of them, grabs his weapon and screams into the communicator.

“Mr. Scott! Now, if you please!”

Déjà vu, exactly.

\--

They’re back on the transporter pad, Carol still clutching the Tahmurian weapon. Scotty and Commander Spock are both standing at the controls, and while the First Officer looks detached Carol knows him well enough to see the hint of strain between the curve of his shoulders.

“Captain,” Commander Spock says, “Are you alright?”

But Jim isn’t listening. He’s on his feet, breathing heavily and glaring at Leonard.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re _injured_ , I told you stay _back_ —”

Carol doesn’t see what happens next coming, and she’s pretty sure that Jim doesn’t, either. One moment Leonard is facing the wall, panting and clutching his injured arm. The next, he’s whipping around, his face contorted with fury. He strikes out with his uninjured hand, his fingers forming a fist. He punches Jim directly in the jaw, sending the captain sprawling back against the wall of the transporter. 

“Leonard!” Carol cries, at the same time Spock says, “Doctor,” and Scotty yells out, “McCoy!”

It’s Spock who moves first, grabbing Leonard by the shoulders and pulling him away from Jim as Scotty and Carol help the captain to his feet.

Jim looks small, in that moment. One hand has gone up to massage his jaw, but his eyes are wide and his mouth is half-parted in confusion. “Bones?” he asks quietly.

Leonard doesn’t say anything, just struggles in Spock’s firm grip. The First Officer lifts his chin. “Doctor McCoy requires medical attention. I will escort him to sickbay and deal with his reprimand.”

“No, Spock, that’s not necessary,” Jim begins, but the Vulcan shakes his head.

“As First Officer, dealing with issues of personnel is my duty.” He turns, then, leading Leonard out of the room. 

“You alright, Cap’n?” Scotty asks after a hushed moment. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Jim pulls away from both of them and retreats from the room.

\--

She wants to go down to sickbay to check on Leonard, but when she gets there he’s nowhere to be found. Instead, Nurse Rodriguez conducts her post-mission physical and declares her entirely unharmed. When she asks about Leonard, she gets no clear response.

She takes the Tahmurian weapon down to the labs after that, to be analyzed at a later date.

And after that she doesn’t know what to do. She floats, wondering through the _Enterprise_ ’s halls. At some point, she ends up on the observation deck. And it’s only once she’s there that she realizes she isn’t alone.

Jim stands against the massive window, staring out into space with a clouded expression. It looks like he’s been through his physical, too—there are no marks on his face from the punch, and he’s in a new, clean uniform. He looks up when the doors close behind Carol.

“Hi,” he says. Then he turns back to the expanse of space. 

Carol comes up beside him. “What are you doing, Jim?” she asks.

He blinks. “Just looking. Thinking.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She takes a step back and settles her hands on her hips. She thinks that the two of them have a lot in common—too much, perhaps. Their minds work fast and they carry the heavy legacy of fathers on their shoulders. They can be oblivious, to the obvious things.

“What are you doing to Leonard?” she asks, in a voice that won’t allow him to evade.

Jim huffs, crosses his arms over his chest. “Shouldn’t you be asking him that? He’s the one who punched me, remember.”

“He cares about you. Maybe more than anything. He misses you.”

“I’m right here,” Jim says, and he throws his hands up and turns away. He paces across the deck, running his hands through his hair. “I’ve been right here. I’m not going anywhere. But he won’t even look at me half the time, only touches me when he has to. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Carol follows him, grabs him by the shoulder and turns him forcibly around. “Stop it. Stop and think, for just a second.”

Jim sucks in his breath, waits for her to continue.

“You died, Jim,” she says softly. “And you might be able to brush that under the rug because you’re still here, but it happened, to you and everyone around you. Do you know what it did to him?”

Jim shakes his head forcefully. “Of course I do,” he says, and he sounds as small and hollow as he did on the transporter pad.

“No,” Carol says. “I don’t think you do.”

She wanders over to one of the seats on the deck and sits down, and he follows behind her.

“Christine Chapel is my best friend,” she says, apropos of nothing.

“Alright,” Jim says, but he tilts his head and looks at her strangely.

“When she first joined your crew, I still got to see her a lot. You were back and forth every few months, and I was working at the Science HQ. Every time you docked, I got to see her.”

She pauses, takes a deep breath. She can still see Christine, in her flight suit, racing to Carol’s office to meet her as she’d get off-shift. 

“I was always her first priority, when she wasn’t with you,” she says, with a wry twist of her lips. “When she said she was transferring, I didn’t quite believe it.”

She remembers that conversation, too, the way Christine kept looking at her so earnestly. Like she was expecting Carol to say something more.

And Carol had just thanked her.

“I blamed you for her leaving. Even when I was forging my transfer papers, I was thinking—this is the man who drove Christine away from me.”

“Carol,” Jim says, interrupting for the first time, “I don’t think you understand what really happened…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Carol says. “Because it wasn’t your fault, Jim. It was mine.”

She gets up after that, takes a few steps towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns her head. “Don’t let Leonard leave, Jim. Don’t let this go that far.”

Before she can make her way out the door, he’s on his feet and right beside her. He hugs her quickly, both his arms going around her and knocking the wind out of her.

“Oh,” she says. 

“I’m sorry.” Jim’s reply is soft, muffled. “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen.”

“Alright,” she says. They understand each other, she decides.

\--

That night, she wakes up from dreams that leave her restless but not scared. She slips out of bed, grabs a PADD from her desk on her way out the door.

She still hasn’t seen Leonard since the incident, needs to make sure that he’s alright. She doesn’t bother to knock on his door; he gave her the access code months ago.

When she steps into his quarters, it’s dark and quiet. “Leonard?” she calls out. He doesn’t respond. She walks through the outer room and towards his bed. What she sees there stops her short.

Leonard lies across his bed, completely asleep, the lower half of his body tangled in the Starfleet-issue sheets. His chest and arms are bare, and wrapped around Jim’s torso, his head resting against Jim’s chest. Jim’s awake, sitting up, his feet balanced on the ground, one hand gently combing through Leonard’s thick hair.

Jim looks up and catches Carol’s eye. He lifts one finger to his lips in a quieting gesture. Carol just nods, once.

“I never did tell you my half of the story,” Jim says quietly.

“It’s alright,” Carol whispers.

It was so easy to realize that Leonard was in love with Jim. She’s known it for months, now. So why is it only at this moment, looking at the way their bodies touch and the emotion in Jim’s eyes, that she realizes that Jim is in love with Leonard?

She thinks about Christine, suddenly. Something clicks in her mind, and everything falls into place.

Suddenly, with 245 weeks to spare, Carol understands.


	2. Life Signs

“Jesus, Bones, why can’t you just spoon like a normal person?”

Despite Jim’s jibes, Leonard kept moving. He fidgeted and squirmed in the other man’s arms until they lay chest-to-chest. Leonard scooted down the length of Jim’s body, until his head was against Jim’s chest and his arms were wrapped around his waist. Then he finally took a deep breath and settled.

It was late into the ship’s night as they laid together, the lights in Leonard’s quarters set to ten percent. He never let the lights get any dimmer, was too wary of the darkness of space to imitate it in his own rooms.

“Bones,” Jim said again. He shifted so that he could press his lips against Leonard’s forehead.

“What is it, Jim?” Leonard asked. His voice was already thick with sleep. 

“Thanks for agreeing to come with me, tomorrow.” 

Sometimes, Jim sounded so young that Leonard was forced to remember all the hardships of his life and the suddenness of his successes. He held on all the tighter, for it.

“Sure, kid,” he murmured with no small amount of affection. “You know I’m always going to be there. Even if we’re tricking hostile natives on Nibiru while your crazy First Officer goes to ice a volcano.”

“It’s a great plan,” Jim said. His voice was haughty, but he laughed and that made it all seem charming.

“Sure, Jim.” Leonard yawned and shut his eyes. He fell asleep with his head against Jim’s chest, listening to the other man’s heartbeat. 

\--

Carol and Leonard beamed back up from the planetoid, shaken. Jim raced into the transporter room, but he barely looked at Leonard. He just gave him an assessing look, clapped him on the shoulder, sent him on his way.

It hurt, but Leonard knew better than to take it personally. He knew that Jim had bigger things to worry about. He could see every line of tension on his captain’s face and in the way he stood on the bridge.

But later, when they’d crashed back to Earth, when Jim was alive but unconscious? Leonard let himself take it personally. He finally left the room, grabbed himself a cup of coffee in shaking hands—they wouldn’t stop shaking—and sat himself down at one of the crappy tables in Starfleet Medical’s break room.

He stared down at the goopy liquid, trying to remember something that would ground him, that would make the world stop tilting off its axis.

He barely noticed when Uhura sat down beside him.

“What can I do for you, Nyota?” he asked, finally.

“It’s never the other way around, is it?” She tilted her head to one side and gave him a long look through dark eyes that were always too perceptive.

“Don’t know what you mean,” Leonard grumbled. He forced himself to drink the coffee.

They sat in silence for long moments, before Uhura spoke again. “He was so worried for you,” she said.

Leonard couldn’t think of how to respond, so he let her continue.

“When the torpedo armed itself. I’ve never seen him look so tense. And there was nothing any of us could do, from the bridge. It was just you and Carol, and the rest of us watching, helpless. I thought Jim was going to snap in half.”

Leonard just shook his head. “He was thinking about five hundred different things at the time. He barely slept the whole time, after Pike died. It was just—”

Uhura held up a hand. “No, Leonard. It was you.”

“You think you know him better than I do?”

“I’ve known him longer,” she said, flippantly brushing her long ponytail to one side.

Leonard didn’t quite crack a smile, but it was a near thing. “Only a few hours longer.”

“Maybe that makes all the difference,” she said. She reached across the table to squeeze his shoulder. “Enough to know that he flirts with me because it’s fun, but he needs you because he cares.”

He shook his head again. “It doesn’t matter, now. I just want him back.”

They both paused, thought about the still body lying on pristine sheets, too cold and too quiet.

“You’ve done all you can, Leonard,” Uhura said. “And it’s more than enough.”

\--

After two weeks, Jim finally woke up.

Leonard schooled his expression into something casual, something untouched. He scolded Jim because it was familiar, rolled his eyes because it was all he could remember how to do.

Jim looked past him, to Spock. Leonard knelt beside him and felt like something was ripping his chest apart from the inside.

But he glanced at the monitors, saw all the different readings: heartbeat, respiration, temperature. All steady, all _alive_.

He could ignore everything else. He breathed. 

\--

The third or fourth time Carol ends up in his rooms on the _Enterprise_ , they settle down on his couch to watch an old holo that Carol’s brought with her.

“You can see how London looked, centuries ago,” she tells him smartly. It’s a fun way to pass the time, and he’s soon lost in the convoluted plots and charming accents. 

“Y’know he’s not a real doctor, right?” he says after the third episode. Carol throws back her head and laughs. It’s easier to make her smile now than it was a few weeks ago, and he’s grateful for it.

The minutes and hours tick by on the chrono, and eventually they mute the programming and sit side-by-side on the couch, watching each other.

“You always ask me how I’m doing,” Carol says quietly. “Whenever I end up here. But you can’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re always awake, too.”

Leonard looks away for a moment, picks at a thread on his t-shirt. He can’t quite meet her gaze when he mumbles, “I have to make sure.”

“Make sure of what, Leonard?” He likes the way she says his name— _Le_ onard, three syllables instead of two. 

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. A moment later he’s on his feet, padding back to the inner part of his quarters to retrieve a PADD. When he returns with it, Carol motions for him to join her on the couch again.

He sits down and pulls up the screen, letting the fluorescent light shine in both of their faces. The first thing that comes up is the simplified icon of a person’s form—adult human male. Next there are several indicators—heart rate, respiration, temperature. 

Carol studies the screen for several long moments, her brow furrowing. “What is this?” she asks.

“CMO’s prerogative,” he tells her quietly. “I can pull up anyone’s immediate medical profile, as long as they’re on this boat. In case of medical emergency, I can see if symptoms have spread. I can check on any member of the crew.”

She looks at him discerningly, then lets out a breath. “That’s Jim, isn’t it?”

Leonard purses his lips and then just nods. “He won’t talk to me, Carol. Did you know that the night Pike died, he didn’t even come to me? I had to run him down, just to give him a checkup.”

He leans far back against the couch and closes his eyes. “I don’t care, about the rest of it. I just have to make sure he’s alright.”

“Okay, Leonard,” Carol says. She lifts the PADD from his lap and shuts it off, sets it on his coffee table. She curls up next to him and gives him a hug. “It’s alright.”

\--

The irony of it is, Leonard is actually excited about the mission to Teratai III. Until it actually happens, that is.

It’s an uninhabited planet, and Spock’s first readings indicate an abundance of flora that might have medicinal properties. So Jim asks Leonard if he’d like to explore, and he suggests they bring Carol along because she has a hidden knack for biology.

It could have been fun. Instead, Leonard beams back to the _Enterprise_ with Jim barely conscious in his arms, having a severe reaction to a plant Leonard hasn’t even begun to classify. Because the universe hadn’t made it clear how much it hates him, recently.

Thankfully, the usual cocktail of treatments works. He injects it into Jim’s bloodstream and watches the monitors as they tell him the captain’s breathing is easing up. Leonard double-checks, however, keeping the fingers of one hand resting lightly on Jim’s throat, checking for inflammation. 

He pulls up a chair beside Jim’s bed and stay there the night, his head cradled in his arms. 

“Bones,” Jim says in the morning, his voice raspy. 

“You’re okay, Jim,” Leonard says immediately. He grabs his tricorder so that he can double-check. 

Jim smiles at him cheekily, but it’s a weak expression given his current state.

“Never do that to me again,” Leonard orders. “I mean it, Jim.”

“I know, Bones,” Jim says, and Leonard believes him.

\--

“Just talk to him,” Carol says one night, turning the dark liquor round and round in her glass.

“About what?” Leonard asks, downing the rest of his drink in one long swallow.

“I don’t know, whatever it is that’s bothering you.” She sighs, looking at him with exasperation. “You know I love you, Leonard, but you’re being ridiculous about this.”

“It isn’t _me_ ,” Leonard says incredulously. “If the idiot could just keep himself together for more than a few days at a time, I’d be just fine, thank you.”

“Sure, Leonard,” Carol says. “Whatever you say.”

\--

Don’t bottle things up, his grandmother used to tell him. It’s the surest way to have them spill over.

He’s never managed to attain his gran’s expert level of trademark Southern wisdom, so of course he does the opposite and everything _does_ spill over.

He doesn’t want to go to Tahmures. After Teratai III, he tells Jim that he’s content to stay in sickbay and deal with the aftermath of landing parties rather than be part of them. But because Jim is a contrary bastard, he won’t take no for an answer. And because Leonard is a sucker, he ends up on Tahmures.

He can feel exactly which bones have broken in his arm, and they sting as he tries to make his way over to Jim in the cramped cave. He sees the two attacking Tahmurians, and he can’t think. He just knows that those weapons are pointy and dangerous, and they aren’t going to get anywhere near his captain as long as he has something to say about it. So he throws himself in front of Jim, shoves the other man to the ground.

When he’s aware, again, they’re already on the landing pad. Carol and Jim are covered in dust as he looks at them, but before he can ever begin to catalogue injuries Jim is on his feet and yelling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

What’s wrong with _him_? What’s wrong with Jim! He’s the one who’s always getting injured, who has to play the big damn hero, who won’t listen to sound advice even if someone’s forcing it down his throat.

“You’re _injured_ —”

Sure, his arm is broken. But he isn’t incapacitated. And if he hadn’t shoved Jim out of the way in time, how much worse would it have been? Would the Tahmurian have impaled him? How would there have been any recovering, from that?

“I told you to stay _back_ —”

He won’t. He won’t stay back. Instead, Leonard surges forward. His skull is buzzing and his arm is throbbing with pain, but he makes a fist and slams it into Jim’s face, feeling an immense amount of satisfaction for one small, perfect moment.

Then he’s standing over Jim, who’s crumpled on the ground. His knuckles ache and he realizes what he’s just done, and he takes a spastic step backward even as Spock comes up to pin his arms to his sides.

“Doctor,” the Vulcan says warningly. Leonard wants to scream.

“Bones?” Jim asks quietly. Leonard can’t even meet his eyes. He lets Spock lead him out of the room.

\--

Spock stands placidly by his side as Geoff runs the osteo-regen over his arm. When he’s perfectly healthy, again, the First Officer leads him into his own office.

“What,” Leonard drawls, chuckling in a way that borders on hysteria. “What’re you going to do, Spock? To punish me?”

“I will have to list on your record that you assaulted a superior officer. Just what were you thinking, Doctor? This is beyond even your customary level of illogical behavior.”

“Superior.” Leonard rolls his eyes. “Tell me, Spock, what good is that superior officer going to be to us if he gets himself fucking killed?”

Spock is still standing in front of him, but his eyes widen just a fraction. Anyone else might have missed it, but Leonard knows the Vulcan well enough by now. He knows his tells.

“Doctor, Jim is not going to die.”

Leonard doesn’t know how he does it. He lays things out in such simple terms, as though if he only declares something a fact, the universe will have no choice but to comply. Leonard wishes he had that kind of certainty. He wishes he didn’t look at everything in terms of the worst-case scenario. He wishes, desperately, that sometimes he could let everything go, all his downer thoughts, and just live.

But he can’t.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Leonard says. “ _Logically_ , every one of us is going to die at some point. Although, if universal constants hold up, you might float off into some other universe before you actually pass on.”

Spock stiffens, visibly, as he always does when Leonard flippantly mentions Spock Prime. Flippant is the only way to deal with the other Spock, and the existence of another universe that is already so much farther into its fate than their own. 

“Do you know what the function of a Chief Medical Officer is, Doctor McCoy?”

The question is sudden, and Leonard isn’t sure how to respond. He blinks.

“It is, to quote Starfleet regulations, ‘to ensure the wellness of every member of a vessel’s crew.’ The Chief Medical Officer is engaged in biomedical research and can act as an ambassador to new planets and species, but ultimately the CMO’s most important duty is in keeping the crew functioning at optimal levels.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Leonard grouses. He crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

“I think you may have forgotten, Doctor. The captain is not going to die because it is your duty to make sure he does not. And there is not a soul aboard this ship that would doubt your ability to fulfill that duty.” 

Leonard freezes. His body seems suspended, his mind moving like molasses. He glances up at Spock and stares, vacantly. He doesn’t know what to say.

“But I failed,” he says finally. 

“In this case, it is only the ultimate outcome that matters, Doctor,” Spock says evenly. 

Leonard can only shake his head. Spock takes a tentative step towards him.

“I have no great means of offering you emotional comfort. After conferring with Nyota, she has suggested that Jim is the one best suited to that task. So now I suggest that you speak to the captain, and fix whatever problem exists between you. Only then can our crew continue to function at optimal levels.”

Leonard releases all his breath in a heavy exhale. “I’m not going to admit you’re right, ever,” he declares.

“I would not expect you to.” 

Spock turns and leaves the office, after that, letting Leonard alone with his thoughts.

\--

Everything is still swimming around in his head when he retires to his quarters that night. He sheds his uniform and pulls on his loosest lounge pants, wandering around in a daze. 

For some reason, he keeps thinking of Christine, and those first few missions before Nibiru. She’s by far the most competent nurse he’s ever known, but that’s not the only thing he likes about her. In some strange way, she always reminded him of himself. It must be the way she rolls her eyes whenever anyone says something stupid, himself included.

The day her transfer request had arrived at his desk, he’d been furious. Jim had been sitting across from him, eyed the PADD and looked guilty. 

“Oh,” he said. “That might be my fault.”

\--

Jim doesn’t knock, because Jim never knocks. Instead, the door slides open and by the time Leonard looks up, Jim is already standing there. He’s absently carding through his hair with one hand, looking awkward. 

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks.

Leonard open his mouth, but before he even thinks of his first words Jim crosses the room in two quick strides. His hands land on Leonard’s shoulders, pulling him close. His lips find Leonard’s immediately, kissing him soundly into silence.

“Was that you apologizing,” Leonard slurs as soon as they break apart. He feels winded, but somehow his hands are reaching out to grab Jim’s hips, pulling him closer.

“ _You_ punched _me_ ,” Jim says, looking affronted. “But everyone thinks I’m the one in the wrong!”

“Who’s everyone?” Leonard asks. “And, you are.”

Jim just shakes his head, laughs as he kisses Leonard again. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been aching for this, the physical reminders of Jim’s presence. His hands warm against Leonard’s shoulders, his lips soft against Leonard’s. 

“I missed you,” Leonard says this time. “I’ve been missing you.”

“I’m right here,” Jim says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been right here.”

And then he’s on his knees, pulling down Leonard’s pants.

“Jim,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

“Shut up, Bones,” Jim orders soundly. “Just shut up and stop thinking.”

It’s easier to do that when Jim swallows him down, and everything fades into sensation. The wetness and warmth of his mouth against Leonard’s length, the rhythmic back and forth as works up a pattern. Leonard’s hands fist in Jim’s short hair, holding on not too tight, but with a possessiveness he hasn’t allowed himself to feel in months.

He doesn’t last long, gasps out Jim’s name as he comes.

Jim, still on his knees, wraps his arms around Leonard and burrows his face into his stomach. “I love you, you stubborn asshole.”

“Okay, Jim,” Leonard says dumbly. “Okay.”

Jim takes Leonard by the hand and leads him to his own bed. He pulls up Leonard’s shirt and then tosses it to the side. He pushes Leonard down, stops long enough to strip his clothes and then climbs up after him. Jim straddles Leonard’s hips and attacks his neck and chest with biting, quick kisses. Leonard imagines each one of them like a supernova, burning out but lingering in the form of stars light-years away.

“Bones,” Jim says after a moment, his breath hot against Leonard’s ear, “you’re not saying anything.”

“You told me to stop thinking,” Leonard says. “I was just following orders.”

Jim laughs, and Leonard thinks that if he ever has to go a day without hearing that sound, his life will be so much the worst for it. But Jim keeps laughing, in between playful nips at Leonard’s lower lip and more thorough kisses. Then Jim’s leaning over to the bedside table, grabbing the lube and nudging Leonard until he turns over.

“But for the record,” Leonard says, as Jim’s fingers skirt over his ass, not quite breaching him just yet, “You can’t fuck me into compliance.”

“I can _try_ ,” Jim says. And try he does.

\--

Later, when Leonard’s too tired to think straight and too sated to want to, he curls up next to Jim and rests his head against the other man’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says, words thick with sleep.

Jim strokes Leonard’s hair out of his eyes and sighs. It isn’t a resigned sound, however—it’s almost indulgent. 

“Don’t be, Bones. You’re always trying so hard for everyone. And for me, especially. I’m sorry I was too much of an ass to see that.”

“You put yourself in danger again and it’s gonna cost you more than a blowjob,” Leonard says.

Jim laughs, but it’s a quieter sound than before. “I can’t promise that. I’m the captain. I can’t send other people into danger I’m not willing to face myself.”

Leonard stills, and doesn’t say anything for several long moments.

But then Jim continues, “But I’m always coming back to you. You know that, right?”

“Sure, Jim,” Leonard says. And this time he believes him. He can feel the warmth of Jim’s skin and the steady beat of his heart. It’s lulling and peaceful, and Leonard’s so content that he falls asleep like that a few moments later.

\--

The next morning, Leonard and Jim dress for Beta shift and head down to the mess together. Leonard holds the tray while Jim piles it with enough food for the both of them, and then they go and sit down at the same table as Carol.

She looks up at them and lifts a brow. “Someone’s getting along,” she says, knowingly.

Leonard can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but he leans down to kiss her on the cheek all the same.

They all eat in companionable silence for a bit, and then Carol sets down her fork.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says. “Pavel says we’re headed to the Acasa system, next.”

“That’s right,” Jim says, taking a substantial bite of his donut. “What about it?”

“Starbase Nine isn’t that far from there. It would put us barely a day off course.”

“Carol,” Leonard starts to say, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

“I want to go and get Christine. Both of you know as well as I do she should be on this ship.”

Jim chokes, and Leonard reaches over to whack him on the back. It takes him another moment to clear his throat, but when he has he just gives Carol an incredulous look.

“I didn’t tell you that story so that you could go and alter our courseplans.” 

“I’m asking permission, Captain,” Carol says sweetly, at the same time Leonard asks, “What story?”

Two blue-eyed blondes turn to look at him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim says, at the same time Carol murmurs, “You probably don’t want to know.”

He lifts both of his hands in surrender. “You’re right. I don’t. But I could use my Head Nurse back. So, what do you say, Jim?”

When Jim laughs and answers him, Leonard knows that everything is as it should be. He doesn’t have to check a monitor to know that Jim’s heart is beating or that his breathing rates are normal.

No, Jim’s in front of him, vibrant and alive. And Leonard loves him for it.


	3. Guiding Stars

Jim led Christine out of the caves of Exo III quietly. She held onto his hand the entire time. They had called Scotty for a beam-out, and were just waiting to return to the _Enterprise_.

“You alright?” Jim asked, as gently as he could. He wished, dumbly, that anyone else was with them, anyone who would be able to offer some better kind of comfort.

“Of course, Captain,” Christine said, her voice perfectly calm. There was a rip in her skirt and her hair had come completely loose, tumbling around her shoulders. But she held herself perfectly straight, and met his gaze evenly. “Thank you for letting me come along.”

Jim grinned at her wryly. “Thank you for saving my life.”

\--

A few weeks later, when the _Enterprise_ was a day away from Earth, Christine arrived at his room. He put aside his paperwork—which was misnamed, since it was all digital anyway—and gestured for her to take a seat.

“What can I do for you, Nurse Chapel?”

She had looked at him sadly and shook her head. “Captain, there are very few things in this universe that I can think of that are more important to me than the crew of this ship. You know that.”

“Of course, Christine. You’re the best we’ve got.” 

She nodded, and continued, “I think things are going to be complicated for you in the future, Jim. Because there’s so many people aboard this ship and you care about each of them. But I also think it might make your life easier.”

He tilted his head and gave her a searching look. “I’m not sure I really get you.”

She laughed, breathily. “I think you will, after a time. It’s just… harder to function, when you focus all your energy on one person. When you need them to be the center of your universe. Do you understand?”

He was still new to his captaincy, but he thought he understood what she meant, if only in reverse. How many crew members were constantly looking to him, like he was the only light to guide them? It was a pressure that never let up, a responsibility he took more seriously than anything. 

“I think so,” he answered her, finally. 

She looked at him oddly, the light catching her pale eyes. “Maybe. But if you do, then you’ll understand that I’ve come here to request a transfer.”

“ _What_?”

She got up, then, and put both her hands against his shoulders. “I need to re-center my universe, Jim. Do you understand?”

He wasn’t sure that he did.

\--

Bones had been about to _die_ , and Jim couldn’t breathe. The entire world narrowed to the countdown on the screen, and his best friend’s frantic voice coming back to them over the commline. 

But Carol saved him, and Jim could move again. He raced through his ships halls, so he could be the first to see them. He burst into the transporter room and took them in—Bones, alive and whole; Carol, beautiful and brave—and for some reason, Christine’s words echoed in his ears.

“ _It’s just… harder to function, where you focus all your energy on one person_.”

The realities hit him heavily. Christopher Pike was dead. He was leading the _Enterprise_ on a mission that wasn’t officially sanctioned by Starfleet. He had a dangerous prisoner in his brig, and many more light-years to go. 

He loved Bones, but he couldn’t let him be the center of his world.

“Get down to sickbay. Prepare a report on whatever you’ve found.” And Bones just nodded, and left.

Jim turned and looked at Carol, and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. “For not giving up.”

\--

Waking up from dying wasn’t so different from waking up from sleep. He looked around the bright white room and smiled, because everything that had been jumbled up in his head and his heart for so long seemed very far away.

Bones stood over him, and Jim wanted to reach out and touch him—but his limbs felt heavy and something in his mind said, don’t rely on him so much. It’d be easy to break down, to tell Bones about how he’d screwed everything up, and the least he could do was die to save his ship because every person aboard relied on him and he could not let them down.

But it was too much. He couldn’t say all that. He turned to Spock instead, and pretended he didn’t see the hurt flashing in Bones’ eyes.

\--

For the first few weeks, the _Enterprise_ ’s mission fills him with adrenaline and enthusiasm. He spends his time off-duty checking up on the crew, and making sure everyone’s settled for their long journey. He crawls through Jeffries tubes with Scotty and spends hours poring over starcharts with Chekov and Darwin. He loves every single one of them, he realizes. Their trust and reliance on him doesn’t seem like a burden.

From time to time he ends up in sickbay. He sits up on a biobed even though he’s uninjured, and swings his legs playfully.

“Can I help you with anything, Bones?”

His CMO moves fluidly from one task to the next, sometimes in his blueshirt and sometimes in scrubs. He looks tired and fierce, but then again he usually looks that way. 

“I’m fine,” Bones snaps. “I don’t need any help, Jim. And get off of there, I don’t want to recalibrate that thing again.”

Jim just nods, claps Bones on the shoulder on his way out. There’s something stale in the air, between them, but it’s alright. There’s still a million other things for him to do, and Bones will come around. 

\--

Teratai III is beautiful, and he’s excited when he goes over the mission parameters with Bones.

“There are about five thousand unclassified plants down there. And Spock thinks they might be useful, for medicines. You’ve got to beam down with me, Bones.”

And Bones looks at him and _smiles_ , and it feels like the first time in forever. 

So of course, things go wrong.

He wakes up in sickbay with his throat raw and his eyes watering, a familiar weight nearby. Bones’ head is bowed over the biobed, and he’s fast asleep. Jim reaches out instinctively to run his hands through Bones’ hair, but when his friend begins to stir Jim pulls away.

“You’re alright, Jim,” is the first thing Bones says. 

“Always am, Bones,” Jim says, and he flashes what he hopes is a charming smile. 

Bones just sighs, pulls away and starts running his hands through his hair. The lights in sickbay are brighter than in the rest of the ship, and Bones’ eyes seem bright green beneath them. 

“Never do that to me again,” he says fiercely. “I mean it, Jim.”

“I know, Bones,” Jim says. And he does. But he doesn’t make promises he knows he can’t keep, so on that point he says nothing.

\--

His crew always picks the worst moments for insubordination. Normally, Jim considers that a strength, and knows he’ll never make the wrong decision because there are countless people behind him, making sure that he doesn’t. They’re his fail-safe method. 

But when Bones lifts his chin and says, “Right. Because only good has ever come of letting you barrel headfirst into another stupid plan,” Jim’s blood stops flowing in his veins. He thinks back to standing on the bridge, of the desperation he’d felt when he knew Marcus was going to come after his ship—his family.

He doesn’t expect Bones to always be on his side. But he does expect his best friend—the man he’s spent the most time with, over the past few years, who’s shared his bed and his heart and _fuck_ , his life—to believe in him. He doesn’t understand why that’s so much to ask.

“I’m still your captain,” he says. It’s the one thing neither Carol nor Bones can refute. It’s his duty to protect the two of them even if they refuse to understand that.

Later, he thinks that Bones’ doubt hurts worse than his punch. Because even after years of Jim working with him, Bones is still pretty awful at doing anything that’ll hurt another living soul. The punch startles Jim, more than anything. He crumples to the ground because for the first time, he doesn’t have the desire to turn this into a brawl.

He gets to his feet with Scotty and Carol’s help and just stares at Bones, trying to figure out why this hurts so damn bad. It’s supposed to be easier, isn’t it? When you have so many people to love that your heart is full from it, and you don’t have to rely on just one person.

But instead of feeling fine he’s staring at the fury burning in Bones’ eyes. He’s never seen the other man look so livid, has never really known his anger to go beyond the surface grump that is his natural state of being. So being on the receiving end of this kind of bone-deep fury is an entirely novel experience, and not a comfortable one. 

“Bones?” he asks. 

But he gets no response.

\--

It’s when he’s on the observation deck, staring out at the stars, that he realizes something. He’d been so focused on Bones’ anger that he never realized that he was angry, too—angry at Bones for putting himself in harm’s way. 

“So that’s what it feels like,” he says wryly, to the stars. He runs a hand over his face and shrugs his shoulders, moves each joint individually to try and get rid of his restless energy. 

He thinks back to Bones, crouched in the cave with a broken arm and a haunted expression—because Lieutenants Tan and Green, and Ensign Emory had already died, and he couldn’t save them. So Bones had been vulnerable both emotionally and physically, and he still thought it was a good idea to put himself between Jim and the Tahmurians?

“Idiot,” Jim says, and he realizes he’s seething. There’s no excuse for someone to use their own life so carelessly. The crew needs Bones. Jim needs Bones. It’s a fact of the universe. 

He stares out at the stars, finds the brightest one. Stellar cartography is an advanced science, but some of it is still instinctive. Pick the brightest star, the most recognizable one, and orient yourself around it. Make it your guide, and then fly straight on until morning. 

Jim’s always surrounded by his crew, and can align himself around each of them and all of them.

But for months, he’s been missing his guide.

\--

He shows up at Bones’ rooms and knows there’s only one way he’ll be forgiven and only one way he’ll forgive. He throws all the logic he’s learned from Spock over the past year out of his mind, and tells himself to just feel. He gathers Bones up in his arms and tries to memorize the taste of his skin and the feel of his stubble and the warm, comforting presence of his hands.

They end up on the bed and Jim marvels at the man before him—the freckles dotting his shoulders and the shifting colors of his eyes, his expression unhappy even as he reaches for Jim and pulls him closer. 

Jim has always thought of Bones as so easy to read—just go by the opposite of whatever it is he says. But maybe that’s not a hard and fast rule. Maybe that’s been Jim’s mistake all along, and Bones has been telling him what he actually wants and needs.

He kisses every part of Bones that he can reach, whispers promises and apologies into his skin.

“For the record,” Bones says, “You can’t fuck me into compliance.”

Jim’s already working him open, watching with rapt attention as the anger finally falls away from Bones’ face and he gives himself up to small gasps for air and tiny, mewling sounds. 

“I can _try_ ,” Jim responds promptly. He slicks himself up and lines the two of them up as best he can, breaches Bones’ entrance with minimal effort. He feels Bones tense around him, but when he looks at Bones’ face the other man is smiling, calm and serene. 

“I love you, y’know,” Bones mumbles breathlessly, after Jim starts to move in earnest. 

“I know,” Jim says. And he does. Because he’s always known it, that Bones will do anything for him. That he’ll sneak him onboard a starship, that he’ll follow him into space. That he’ll purse his lips and let Jim chase a wanted criminal halfway across the universe, and that he’ll refuse to give Jim up and drag him back from the other side. 

Jim is Bones’ center, as much as Bones is Jim’s. 

The realization flashes like lightning across his mind, and the next moment he loses himself to everything but sensation. 

\--

Carol shows up just after Bones has fallen asleep. 

“I never did tell you my half of the story,” Jim says quietly.

“It’s alright,” Carol says, but Jim shakes his head. He shifts gently from underneath Bones, grabbing his pants from the floor and shrugging into them. He doesn’t manage to stop himself from throwing a bashful look in Carol’s direction.

She blinks at him, waves a hand flippantly. “Call it fair turnabout,” she says blandly. “Though it’s nothing I’m interested in seeing.”

He laughs, and they walk over to Bones’ couch and sit themselves down. Carol draws her knees up to her chest and looks at him expectantly. Jim takes a deep breath before he begins.

“Christine was engaged, you know. Before she joined Starfleet.”

“I know,” Carol says. “Roger Korby. She never talked about him, much.”

“Yeah,” Jim agrees. “It broke off sometime before she enlisted, and I think it might’ve been one of the reasons why. I think that’s why she and Bones bonded so well, at the academy. They had a lot in common.”

Carol lifts both her brows in question, and Jim chuckles.

“He’s got _such_ a thing for blondes. Ask him to show you a holo of his ex-wife, sometime.” 

Carol laughs, lightly, but after a moment they settle back into expectant silence. Jim clears his throat, clasps his hands in front of him.

“Right, so. Roger Korby. He’s a scientist, he got sent on a mission to Exo III maybe five years ago. And Christine hadn’t heard from him since he left, so she considered the engagement over and enlisted in Starfleet, where the three of us met her. And about two years ago, she was assigned to the _Enterprise_.”

Like everyone else on the _Enterprise_ , the medical staff was young but brilliant. M’Benga was chosen because of his expertise with Vulcans, small though their population now was. Bones had handpicked Christine personally, not wanting anyone else running his sickbay. The three of them formed a trinity of truly horrifying medical brilliance that Jim was more often than not on the receiving end of.

“So, maybe a mission or so before Nibiru, the _Enterprise_ was assigned to go to Exo III and see what the hell had happened to Korby. We went, and Christine asked if she could beam down with the landing party, and I agreed.” 

Jim looks away from Carol now, his expression darkening. 

“What happened?” she asks gently.

“Oh, what always happens. Turns out our brilliant scientist had gotten too wrapped up in his own work, decided that his artificial intelligence was superior to born life. He thought if he made a replica of _me_ , he’d have a fighting chance of taking over Starfleet and the universe, or something.” Jim laughs, brushing it all off. But it had been a near thing, that mission. 

“And Christine?” Carol prompts, her voice hushed.

“She rose to the occasion,” Jim says. “We couldn’t save Korby, but by that point he wasn’t really alive at all. I’m sure Starfleet kept a file on all of his findings, but it was dark stuff, Carol.”

“But, you know? When we were waiting for a beam out, I asked Christine how she was doing. And after she gave me the usual ‘I’m fine,’ she sort of laughed at herself. And she said, ‘I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time.’”

“Oh,” Carol says, and her cheeks turn red. 

“You guys were really close, at the academy. Weren’t you?”

Carol nods, then looks down at her lap and starts pulling at the fibers of Bones’ couch. “It wasn’t like that, ever. I just… I was the admiral’s daughter. Everyone knew I’d get whatever post I wanted, few people wanted to believe I’d earned my doctorate or my commission. But Christine was different.”

“She’s something else,” Jim agrees.

“Jim,” Carol says quietly after a moment. “I miss her.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“And I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “For assuming it was your fault she left. Because it was all she’d said to me. ‘After talking with Captain Kirk, I’ve requested a transfer.’”

Jim scratches the back of his head. “It’s alright. I should have tried hard to get her to stay.” Because everyone could use a star to guide them, and maybe Christine had been wrong.

\--

He gets three kisses before breakfast the next morning, and Jim decided to count each one as a win. The smile on his face is warm and genuine, and every time he looks over at Bones he has to fight the urge to tousle his hair.

“Jim,” Bones says finally, “Stop _looking_ at me like that.”

“Okay, okay.” Jim holds up both his hands in surrender. “Just, tell me if you’re unhappy, alright? Whenever you are.”

Bones rolls his eyes. “I’m always unhappy,” he says, but Jim catches the way his lips turn up at the corners.

They sit down to breakfast with Carol, and Jim knows he shouldn’t be surprised when Carol brings up Starbase Nine.

“I could use my Head Nurse back,” Bones says. “What do you say, Jim?”

He can’t say no, to either of them. And he doesn’t even want to. He puts on his most obnoxious grin and pumps one hand in the air. “Officers,” he says in his best captain’s voice, “Let’s go get our lady.”

\--

Starbase Nine sits on the edge of deep space, the last established Starfleet outpost before the unexplored sector of the quadrant. The _Enterprise_ docks there for a last-minute supply touch up, and while Spock and Scotty coordinate the fake checklists, Jim beams down to the base with Carol and Bones.

Christine’s in the medical wing, going over charts. She’s a beautiful woman, her skin milky and her blonde hair pale. She looks up when the three of them enter, her eyes going wide. 

“Captain,” she says first. And then, “Leonard,” and finally, in a hushed voice, “Carol.”

“Hello, Christine,” Carol says, and she pushes Bones and Jim out of the way and throws her arms around Christine. The two men hang back, for a moment, letting the two of them talk in hushed voices. Carol leans up to kiss Christine on the cheek, and the nurse goes red before glancing back over at Jim and Bones.

When Carol finally steps back, looking flushed, Jim comes forward.

“Hey there, Nurse Chapel. We’ve got a job offer, for you.”


End file.
